It had been surprisingly well-patronized considering the circumstances. Most of the young men of military age wore uniform. The lucky ones were home on leave, but many familiar faces were missing, some of whom would never be seen again. The agony of thinking and remembering all the time was slowing driving her mad. She must get a grip on herself. Look forward instead of backwards all the time. Memories were cold comfort on the lonely nights when she tossed and turned because she couldn’t sleep.
Forcing her thoughts back to the present, she took a book out of her bag and made herself read every line before she turned the page over. Only the three of them shared the carriage. Strange how on the two occasions she had caught a train to Melbourne, her carriage was practically empty.
Would Blair remember her? Probably not. What had the Chaplain said, partial amnesia? As for his blindness, she couldn’t bear to even think about such a terrible occurrence.
“Going to Melbourne on holiday?” The young woman enquired in a friendly fashion, as if feeling the need to break the silence hovering between them.
Laurie started in surprise. “I’m going to Melbourne to see, um, a friend. He’s in a convalescent hospital, recovering from wounds he received on Gallipoli.”
“I’m so sorry,” the other girl said.
The young soldier took an interest now. “What unit did your friend serve in?”
“The Eighth Light Horse.”
“Infantry myself. Copped it in June. I got sent to a convalescent hospital in Melbourne. Perhaps your friend is in the same one. I heard that a lot of large private homes have been opened up for this purpose now.”
She explained where Blair was, and by some strange quirk of fate it was the same place where the young man had recuperated. They became quite chatty after this.
“I stayed at a small inexpensive private hotel a short stroll from the hospital while my husband convalesced,” the young woman said.
Sounded like a good idea Laurie decided on the spur of the moment. “Could you give me the address of the hotel?”
On a scrap of paper, the girl wrote the address and directions on how to find the hotel.
“Thank you, I meant to stay with my aunt, but the hotel sounds ideal. It will save me a lot of traveling.”
She was sorry to have to say goodbye when the young couple left the train at Seymour, as they were pleasant companions. She ate her sandwiches, read her book for a while, and when her eyelids became heavy she slept.
“Melbourne in ten minutes,” the conductor called out, waking her from a fitful sleep.
With no-one available to help, she struggled to lift her case out of the luggage rack. Placing it on the floor near the doorway, she decided the sensible thing to do was catch a taxi to the hotel, rather than risk getting lost.
Melbourne, at last. Alighting from the train, she carried her case in one hand, her bag in the other. What an awful noise! Everyone seemed to be in such a frantic haste, she felt tempted to jump on the next train and return home. Don’t be such a coward, she scolded herself. Blair Sinclair was in Melbourne, in desperate need of someone, and for the moment she was it.
A cheerful porter took charge of her case, and within minutes she found herself sitting in the back of a motorized taxi, giving the driver directions to the hotel. The middle-aged man drove carefully. Once, a few short months ago, she would have watched the comings and goings of the Melbourne populace with interest. Now she wanted to get settled into the hotel and visit Blair in hospital as soon as possible.
Remembering how he had looked before he went away, she shuddered at the thought that perhaps his handsome features might be scarred. Her eyes blurred with tears on thinking what blindness would mean to a virile young man, and she was glad she had come.
“Here you are, Miss,” the driver interrupted her somber thoughts. He lifted her case out of the car and placed it on the footpath while she fumbled for her purse.
The hotel was a square-fronted, double-storied building in red brick, with white window shutters. It sat well back from the street and was surrounded by neatly tended gardens and lawns. A plump, cheerful lady answered Laurie’s knock. Her faded brown hair was swept back from her face in a tight bun, and she wore a black dress with a white lace collar.
“Would you have a room for me?” Laurie asked, gazing into a pair of twinkling blue eyes. “A friend recommended your hotel.”
The woman scrutinized her, not rudely, yet every aspect of Laurie’s appearance was assessed.
“How long do you wish to stay?”
“I’m not sure,” she plunged in nervously. “I’m visiting someone in the convalescent hospital. It depends really.”
“Well, my dear, you certainly must stay here under the circumstances. I just wondered why a young lady like you is traveling alone, but now I understand. Come along with you, by the way, I’m Doris Kipping.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Kipping picked up Laurie’s case and led her inside. Up a carpeted hallway they went to a small reception area where Laurie signed in the leather bound register, silently waiting while the woman lifted a set of keys from a board behind the desk.
“Follow me, Miss Cunningham.” Mrs. Kipping picked up the case again. “A ground floor room for you, I think, dear, overlooking the garden. Breakfast is at seven thirty. I can serve lunch if required, and dinner is at seven each evening.”
“Thank you, sounds perfect. Actually, I had been worrying about where to eat,” Laurie confessed. “Would you like me to carry the case?”
“No, dear, I’ll carry it. We used to have a porter. With the war and my boys being away, I look after everything now, except for the cooking and cleaning. My daughter helps there.” She sighed.
“I meant to stay with my relatives in Elwood, but then I heard about your hotel,” Laurie confessed with a smile, feeling happier now than she had in ages.
“Quite a number of my guests have someone at the convalescent hospital. It’s less than half a mile from here. Such a shame, all those fine boys wounded and sick. My own two are away fighting.” She barely paused for breath. “This used to be a family-run hotel, but at the moment only my daughter and I are here.”
She unlocked a door at the end of a hallway and ushered Laurie in. “If there’s anything you require, let me know, even if it’s just an understanding ear to confide in.”
“Thank you, I will.” Laurie smiled. “Do you think I should go around to the hospital now? I suppose it is a bit late.” She gnawed her bottom lip.
“Better wait, dear. Go in the morning after you’ve had a nice sleep. You don’t want your young man seeing you tired and peaky-looking.”
“It doesn’t matter what I look like. He won’t know. He’s blind.”
Mrs. Kipping’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry, what a tactless woman I am. After you get yourself settled in and freshen up, come along to the dining room. You must be starving. Things will seem much brighter in the morning.”
Laurie placed her bag on the bed, unpacked only dresses and skirts, and hung them in the wardrobe. Silly to unpack everything, in case she left after a couple of days.
She freshened up with water from a jug. The mirror confirmed how pale and washed out looking she was. Bruising flawed the skin under her eyes, and the flesh was pulled so tautly across her cheekbones it showed the fine blue veins beneath. “You’re a wreck, Laurie Cunningham,” she told her reflection.
Everything appeared clean, if unpretentious, from the brass bed head to the old fashioned heavy furniture. A dark blue bedspread with matching bolsters stood out against the pale blue walls.
She penned a quick note to her father, explaining about the hotel and expressing the hope he would not be too angry about her change of plan. Sealing the letter up ready to post, she headed for the dining room. An appetizing meal was put before her and for the first time in months, she ate every morsel on her plate.
*
It was ten thirty by the time Laurie arrived at the convalescent hospital next morning
. Pausing at the iron gates, set into a high stone wall, she surveyed the bluestone mansion with interest.
Even though it was summer time, the grass remained lush in the beautiful garden. Birds flittered between the huge oak and elm trees that shaded the flowerbeds. In the stillness, somewhere close by she heard the buzzing of bees. Peace and serenity reigned here. A perfect place for men broken and fatigued by war to put the shattered remnants of their lives back together again.
All the windows stood open, as did the glass double doors of the entrance. Slowly, almost warily, she made her way to a small alcove where a middle-aged nurse sat making notes.
“Excuse me.” She gave a nervous swallow. “Could you tell me where I might find Captain Blair Sinclair?” She fumbled in her bag, withdrew the Chaplain’s letter and handed it to the nurse.
“Lauren Cunningham, Captain Sinclair’s fiancée.” Laurie bit back a squeak of surprise. “We hoped you would come.”
She twisted the strap on her handbag in agitation, as she waited for the nurse to finish writing up a chart. Should she clarify the matter and say who she really was?
“Come along, Miss Cunningham.” The chance to set the record straight disappeared. “I won’t keep you waiting any longer. You’ll be anxious to see your captain.” She smiled in a friendly fashion.
“Oh yes. Is he, I mean, is he all right?”
“As well as can be expected, although I must admit he’s not responding as he should. He’s taken his blindness very badly. With a pretty young thing like you to cheer him up, though, he’ll be out of here in no time.”
The room they entered had walls painted in a pale primrose color and white net curtains fluttering at the open windows. Rows of beds stretched along either side, some with curtains drawn about them, others with their occupants visible.
The patients seemed so young, she thought with a pang. Some sat in chairs beside their beds or lay propped up against pillows. Others rested quietly with their eyes closed, as if trying to shut out the horrors they had endured.
The last bed was next to a glass door opening onto a side verandah. “Captain Sinclair, you have a visitor.”
“Someone to see me?” His voice sounded the same, yet somehow different. His handsome features were unmarked, but he looked gaunt, his face pale and drawn with suffering. His misty blue eyes were fathomless pools of emptiness.
Laurie blinked away threatening tears as he moved his head in the direction of the nurse’s voice. Wearing a blue pajama top, he sat propped up against two pillows, his lower half covered by a crisp white sheet.
“Come along, Captain Sinclair, you haven’t greeted your fiancée yet.”
“My fiancée?” his voice sounded puzzled, and Laurie waited anxiously, wondering what to do for the best. “Do I have a fiancée?” He frowned, obviously grappling for facts that eluded him.
Hello, Blair.” Better for him not to know her true identity yet. “Don’t you remember me? It’s Laurie.”
“Laurie?” He repeated the name slowly. “Sorry, I don’t recall you at all.”
“You’re lucky having such a pretty sweetheart. I’m sure every man here envies you. How could you forget those bright auburn curls?”
“You’ve got auburn hair, Laurie?”
“Yes, with a temper to match. Do you have much pain?” Impulsively she touched his hand, which lay clenched on the bed sheet.
“I’ll leave you two together for a while.” Smiling, the nurse hurried away with a swish of her skirt.
“Do you have to stay in bed all the time or can you get up?”
“I get up sometimes for exercise.” He gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “A blind cripple hobbling along clinging to someone’s arm, that’s me.”
“Don’t say that. You won’t always be blind. The nurse said it’s temporary and your sight will eventually come back. At least you’re alive, not like…”
“Alive!” he cut in savagely. “You call this being alive? A blind cripple with half a memory? Go now with a clear conscience. You saw me, paid a duty call on the poor, wounded soldier. I don’t want or need your pity.”
“Pity!” Her temper flared. He lived. Danny was dead. “I came over a hundred miles because I wanted to help. It was a mistake though, wasn’t it? There’s nothing anyone can do for a person who is so full of self-pity.”
An angry hiss escaped him. He gave her hand such a savage wrench, she fell on to his chest. His lips fastened on hers, hard, bruising and insulting. His hands twisting cruelly in her hair brought hot tears to her eyes. He must have tasted their saltiness, because he released her straight away.
“Sorry, I’m acting like a swine.” He clutched her hand. “Please, don’t go.”
She scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and sat down again.
“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have attacked you like I did.” The fingers she ran through her hair trembled. “Good thing you can’t see me.” She gave a forced laugh. “I look an absolute fright.”
“You must be beautiful, you felt it. I could smell the perfume of your skin, too, but you have no ring.” His fingers touched hers in a feather soft caress, yet every nerve ending felt it.
“Were we engaged long?”
“We got engaged just before you went overseas. There wasn’t time to buy a ring,” she gabbled, despising herself for the lies, yet not knowing what else to do.
“We’ll have to remedy that. You’ll have a ring as soon as I get out of here.” A shadow passed across his face, wiping out every vestige of color, and he dropped her hand.
“This won’t do. I’ve got a mangled leg, I’m blind, and parts of my life are a complete blank. I must release you from our engagement. It’s the honorable thing to do.”
“No, Blair, I want to stay.” His terrible hopelessness made her feel like weeping again.
“God, it seems so unfair taking advantage of you. I must have loved you once, for us to become engaged, yet that part of my life is wiped out. I can remember things before I enlisted, but the war, and you, and my getting wounded, all of it is a blank.”
“You must have seen terrible things, and you were badly wounded. In time, when the memories aren’t so painful, you’ll remember. I suppose things became so horrific your mind blocked them out. When you get stronger again and return home, things will be different.”
He clutched her hand. “Do you think so? I try to remember. I concentrate as hard as I can. Sometimes there are flashes, and then just as I get ready to grasp them they flit away. My head aches with trying to remember, but nothing makes any sense to me.”
His fingers gouged so deeply into the flesh of her hand she feared he would crack her bones. He was almost grey with fatigue, she saw with compassion.
“You’re tired out,” she said gently. “It’s best if I go now. You should rest.”
“I do feel weary. Will you come again this afternoon? We could sit on the verandah, if you like. Stay with me a few more minutes,” he pleaded.
She waited until his eyes closed and his breathing became regular before carefully disentangling her hand and quietly slipping away.
“Hello, pretty lady.” Halfway down the ward she stopped to smile at the youth sitting in a wheelchair, newspaper in his lap.
“Hello yourself.” Her gaze went to the folded pajama leg peeking out from under his dressing gown.
“I’ll be getting a new leg soon, tailor made,” he said with a grin, as he followed her eyes. “I’m Steven.”
“Hello, Steven. I’m Laurie.” She gave him a cheerful smile. “I’ll be back this afternoon, so we can talk again. I have to go now, or nurse will be furious. I’ve stayed too long already.”
With a wave she left him, answering with a smile or a nod the greetings called out by other patients as she passed by.
“I’ve stayed too long.” She met up with the nurse in the passageway. “I’m sorry. Blair, I mean Captain Sinclair, wants me to come back in the afternoon, if it’s all right.”
“Of course, Miss Cunn
ingham. Our hours are flexible here. This is not a hospital in the true sense. It’s a place where the boys can rest and have some tender loving care before they venture back into the outside world again.”
“You’re doing marvelous work here,” Laurie said sincerely. “Will the captain be going home soon?”
“Join me for a cup of tea. We can have a little chat.”
She sat on a chair opposite the nurse. Within a short time, a young girl entered with a tray containing two cups of tea, milk, sugar and some buttered scones.
“Lovely, thanks.” Laurie put milk and sugar in her cup. Taking a scone, she bit into it hungrily.
“Can you tell me about the captain, I mean, what happened to him?” She almost opened her mouth to confess her true identity, but some instinct from deep within stilled the confession hovering on her lips. If they thought she wasn’t Blair’s fiancée, they mightn’t let her visit him. She couldn’t take the chance. She wanted to see him, wanted to help him, if only to lessen her own terrible hurt and loss.
“I can tell you what we know, which isn’t much.”
Laurie listened to this compassionate woman who seemed to consider every patient as a member of her own family.
“He got blown up and he sustained a head injury which has virtually healed. This would account for his blindness and amnesia. There’s still some shrapnel embedded inside his head. The doctors don’t want to surgically remove it yet, in case they cause further damage.”
The nurse patted her hand in a friendly, consoling gesture. “He’s had a grave shock, which could also be the cause for his amnesia. As for his leg, he nearly lost it. The bone was shattered, which is why it’s taking so long to heal. He’ll probably always have a limp.”
“Will he be able to see again? The chaplain mentioned in his letter they thought the blindness might be temporary.”
“The blindness and amnesia could be psychological symptoms. Call it shellshock, battle fatigue, whatever you like, time combined with peace and quiet are the best healers. It could take years for his sight to return, or there again, it might be a few months or weeks. Would you be brave enough, if he never regained his sight? If not, it would be kinder to leave him now, rather than build up his hopes only to leave him later. He isn’t helpless, but you must realize there are things he won’t be able to do without assistance. You would have to be his eyes. Are you strong enough for that?”
Lauren's Dilemma Page 7